The noisy, dense sound of rain from the outside world was cut off.
After entering this space, what replaced it was a strange silence.
It was not complete silence, but rather like sinking deep into thick, viscous liquid. The flow of time became vague and indistinct, filled with a more primal, indescribable aura.
What made Nagato feel the most dread and gravity was the omnipresent "sense of being watched."
He could clearly feel that every inch of this space was saturated with a cold, ancient, utterly malicious will.
The shadows within the mist resembled eyes, indifferently watching him, this uninvited guest. Yet if one looked closely, there was nothing there.
"Who are you?"
Nagato's shout echoed into the distance, yet it seemed endless, as though this place had no boundaries.
Frowning, he stepped forward and chose a direction to walk.
As Nagato drew closer and closer, he felt as though he were walking from the shoreline into the sea step by step. The crushing pressure gradually rose past his chest, bringing unease and suffocation.
At that moment.
Drip.
A drop of blood fell onto the ground beneath Nagato's feet, yet it seemed to fall upon water, rippling outward in layers. Crimson slowly stained his vision.
He finally saw the sea of blood beneath his feet. Everything before him was drowned in black and red.
But amidst those two colors, countless pale bones were piled before him, forming a mountain of corpses gazing upward.
Upon a jagged throne built from white bones, a figure sat quietly.
One hand rested casually atop a pale skull, while the other lazily supported his chin.
He had not even fully opened his eyes. His eyelids hung half-lowered, dense eyelashes casting shadows before them.
"You…"
Nagato looked up at the figure atop the mountain of corpses. Upon seeing that face, he subconsciously opened his mouth.
But then, the man slightly raised his eyes and looked down at Nagato.
"..."
Silence. Deathly silence.
Yet it was more threatening than any words.
That gaze was not merely "seeing." Nagato felt as though his soul and essence were being sliced apart and examined bit by bit beneath it. The sensation made one's very soul tremble in terror.
Ever since obtaining these Rinnegan long ago, he had not experienced such a feeling for a very long time.
The last time was when Yahiko died before his eyes, the overwhelming weakness and helplessness had been painfully real.
And at this moment, under that lofty gaze looking down upon him from above, Nagato once again experienced that feeling.
And he finally realized a fact.
"There is an existence inside Hanzo that absolutely cannot be touched."
Under the threat and unease rising from the depths of his soul, Nagato almost instinctively lowered his head and avoided that gaze.
Yet because of that, he also felt humiliation and unwillingness from the bottom of his heart.
He was "Pain." He was "God." Yet he was acting so cowardly.
'Who exactly is this guy?!'
The untouchable existence in Nagato's eyes was naturally Arata, residing deep within Hanzo's soul. The current scene did not surprise him in the slightest.
With Nagato's mental state already nearly crushed beneath the burden of the Demonic Statue of the Outer Path and the Rinnegan, even after being revived through Edo Tensei by Kabuto in the original story, he still retained that sickly appearance.
Now that he had entered Arata's domain, he was nothing more than meat on the chopping block.
Here, Arata was the absolute ruler.
The sole law of this space.
Arata shifted his gaze away, as though he had seen an antique with a trace of novelty, only to discover it was a cheaply made imitation, leaving behind only indifference and boredom.
"Whether you die, or he perishes, makes no difference."
His lowered eyes and slow, deep voice carried the hoarseness of grinding metal.
"For the sake of those eyes, I shall spare you once. But there will not be a second time."
Nagato pulled himself from his fear. Upon hearing that, he suddenly raised his head, his expression dark as he looked toward the figure atop the corpse mountain.
"Why is it for the sake of these eyes instead of me?!"
These Rinnegan were clearly his. He was born to bring peace to the world as its "God." He would nurture peace through pain.
But almost the instant those words left his mouth, Nagato saw the corner of that face twitch upward slightly.
It was not a smile.
It was an extremely faint expression of contemptuous annoyance.
"Hmph."
Just a single syllable.
There was no substantive meaning within it, yet it was a thousand, ten thousand times more terrifying than any words.
Arata finally raised his eyes.
Those deep blue pupils swirled like whirlpools beneath a calm sea, stealing away every ounce of courage Nagato possessed.
Arata once again recreated the complete majesty of the Tenseigan.
Under the lofty gaze of those eyes, Nagato felt, for the first time, a sense of insignificance utterly alien to him, rising from the depths of his soul. Even his spirit itself ached.
That was not the gaze of a human looking at another human.
It was not even the indifference with which he, as a self-proclaimed "God," viewed mortals.
It was more akin to looking at an "object."
Arata's gaze was no longer scrutiny.
It was observation.
Nagato felt that everything about him, his form, soul, thoughts, even his very existence itself, had been completely seen through and nailed in place by that gaze.
"Who do you think you are?"
Arata's voice was cold and heavy, carrying cruel insight and impatience.
"You are nothing more than a lowly vessel meant to carry those eyes."
"If not for these eyes that do not belong to you, you would merely be a weak ant."
As the words fell, Arata raised his arm and extended a finger.
Nagato's soul froze solid.
That finger pointing at his face moved lightly.
Splurt!!
A silent, invisible stillness descended.
His right arm suddenly separated from his shoulder like dismantled building blocks.
But it was not over.
Arata lightly traced another motion.
Splurt!
His left leg separated from his body.
Splurt! Splurt! Splurt!!
Several cracks appeared across Nagato's spirit body.
His limbs and torso split apart, yet floated strangely in midair, making him resemble a dismantled puppet.
Tiny pale-white particles drifted from the severed edges of his limbs.
"AAAAAH!!"
Pain originating from the soul itself was unimaginably horrific.
Muscles, skin, bones, even his brain, everything felt as though it had been shredded apart, forcing Nagato to let out a shrill scream.
Perhaps because Nagato's wails and terror had become a pleasing symphony, the hoarse voice entering his ears finally carried a trace of delight.
"Cherish the hard-earned remainder of your life."
He spoke softly.
"To walk past ants without crushing them is very difficult to control."
"Remember this. Should you step into this place again, no matter whose pawn you are… I will crush you."
As those words fell, the entire space seemed to come alive.
It was no longer the previous still calm.
The shadows within the mist transformed into violent winds, while the sea of blood beneath their feet surged and churned.
Nagato's shattered soul was roughly kneaded back together by an unseen force.
Several invisible chains tightly wrapped around him and violently dragged him outward.